Of Hijinks and Templars
by assassinofaraluen
Summary: AKA: Three Times Charles Lee was a Loyal Friend and One Time He Was Not


1:

When Abby stepped off the ship that had taken her from the Carribean to Boston, feeling more than a little motion sick, if she were being honest, she was greeted by an excited man.

"Miss Hornigold?" he asked, and she took a pace backward, more than a little nervous, though trying to hide it.

"Yeeees?" she answered, looking the man up and down, trying to gauge the man's loyalties, or how nice he was.

"Charles Lee," he introduced himself and reached to take Abby's hand, pressing a light kiss to her knuckles.

"Well, you seem to know me," the woman joked, hiding her blush well. He flashed her a smile from behind loose strands of dark black hair.

"I've rented rooms at the Green Dragon tavern," he told her, and, when she moved to collect her bags, stopped her, taking her bag before she could touch it. "Allow me, it's a long journey you've been on."

This blush was hidden with less success, and she nodded. "Lead the way then," she said, gesturing for them to start walking. "So, how did you know I was arriving today?"

"Call it a lucky guess," he said, winking playfully.

She rolled her eyes. "I've been told others are arriving as well? I didn't get names..."

"Don't worry, Miss Hornigold," Charles said. "Master Birch has sent me a list, and the others should be arriving soon."

"You can call me Abby, Charles," Abby said. "Hornigold was my father."

He shot her a grateful smile, as they reached a tavern. "This is it."

"Good," Abby said, reaching for the door, and opening it lightly. "I need food, and a nap," she added in a joking tone. "And then maybe we could get to work."

2:

It was late at night when the storm hit. It woke Abby from a dead sleep, hair tousled from a nightmare. She shook her head, combing her fingers through her black hair.

Knowing that it would take her at least an hour to be able to sleep, she stood quietly, seeing candlelight stream under her door. reaching for a ribbon and tying her messy hair back, she pulled a light coat over her sleep dress and stepped out into the hallway. It was Charles she saw, seated next to a dim fire, a candle flickering next to him as he read. It threw strange shadows onto his features, and she wasn't sure if he had fallen asleep in his chair or not until he seemed to sense her presence and looked at her.

"I'm sorry," she whispered. William had arrived late that night, and she didn't want to wake him. "I didn't mean to stare."

He gestured for her to join him, and she did gratefully, allowing him to pour her a small glass of ale. "Storm wake you?" he asked, and she nodded, pulling her coat tighter around him. "Bad dream?" When her gaze snapped up to him, he shrugged. "Heard you talking in your sleep."

She flushed slightly, taking a small drink of ale before answering. "Yes, you could say a nightmare. I..."

She felt a hand on hers, and she smiled. "You don't have to explain," he told her, and she nodded, changing the subject.

"History tome?"

"Fiction, actually."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Gulliver's Travels," he said.

"Haven't read that one yet...is it any good?"

He smiled, and their conversation lasted early into the next morning, long after the storm had finally blown away.

3:

After that storm, it became commonplace for Charles and Abby to sit together at mealtimes, talking quietly about a new book, or about Templar ideals. They had become like siblings, and, when Abby had fallen for the Frontiersman Christopher Gist, it was Charles who knew first.

"So, tell me about him," he told her one night in the middle of a light debate of mercy in Templar ideology. She paused, then flushed.

"Who, Master Gist? He...He's loyal to the Templar Order, he's kind...so, so handsome..."

He chuckled lightly. "And First Mate to Shay Cormac," he pointed out. She looked back at their dinner.

"I know...but he's so sweet, and I...I think he likes me, too." She sighed. "But by the Father, I can't tell if he can or not...I get so nervous around him..."

Another chuckle and his hand went to hers. "I can help you."

And 1:

_BANG!_

The gunshot came out of nowhere from an assailant hidden in the trees. Abby had shoved Charles to the ground, and froze has the musketball pierced her chest, right below her diaphragm. She whimpered, wide-eyed, blood staining the corner of her mouth as her legs became too weak to carry her weight.

She didn't feel Charles catch her before she hit the forest floor, but she could see the worry in his eyes.

His hair had become streaked with grey, as had her own. She could barely see it now, and she smiled at him, eyelids fluttering as she forced her soul to stay put, forced herself to keep _breathing_, coughing up blood that stained her chin crimson red.

"F-finally got us..." she said, her voice barely a whisper.

"Yes," he replied, and she could hear the waver in his voice. Her hand, suddenly pale and shaking, went to his cheek, and her eyes watched his.

"Don't...don't cry..." she forced out, coughing once more, more blood staining her chin. "I'm...I'm at peace...I can't-" another racking cough, "can't feel it anymore."

Charles nodded, and she finally allowed her breathing to start to even, still watching him as the world faded into silence and black. Her hand that rested on his cheek slid limply by her side, and it was only then, once he had closed her eyes, that he allowed himself to cry quietly, holding her close.


End file.
